Together as One: The Story of the Teams

Chapter Twenty-One ~ The Archer Pt. 1

I aim my bow and let the arrow fly.  It pierces the hide of the cow a few feet ahead of me, killing it and providing me with enough meat for a few days, as well as valuable leather.

"Perfect. Enough to finally make a jacket," I mutter to myself, picking up and inspecting the leather.  I make sure not to leave anything from the cow behind out of respect.

I tuck the items into my backpack and hike back home to my small shack.  Huge spruce trees surround me and snow crunches under my feet.  With every breath, fog appears in the cold air.  When I finally reach my house, I toss my things into my chest and start a fire.

Ten years old and living alone.  It's been this way since I was five, and it's amazing that I'm still alive. 

I hang my bow up on the wall and put the beef into the furnace, letting it cook. I sit down on my bed and put my sunglasses on the side table.

I'm really hoping I don't have one of my... attacks this evening.  I'm not in the mood.

I've been alone for a really long time.  For the past year, I've been having these insanity attacks more and more frequently.  I know I'm going crazy, and I don't know how long it'll be before I go completely off the deep end. 

The beef finishes and I eat hungrily.  There aren't many animals in these woods, which isn't good for me.  No animals means I can't eat, therefor forcing me to move, and I hate moving in the winter.

I make myself a leather coat, line it with wool, and dye it black.  I put it on and go outside to feed my cow, Anita Pea (I found that name really funny when I was five).  She's my only friend, as well as my source for milk.  I would never kill her, no matter how desperate my need for food is. 

"I'm going to practice shooting!" I call into the forest.  My voice gets blown away by the wind and lost in the trees.

"Ok Ian," I whisper in reply, my face falling.  One of these days I wish somebody would reply, asking me why I'm yelling.

I snatch up my bow and begin shooting at trees, bushes, falling leaves, anything that moves. I shoot, retrieve my arrows, and shoot some more. It's become routine.  I'm actually a pretty good shot, but I would expect that from practicing every day for five years. 

When my arms get tired, I go back to my house and hang up my bow and quiver.  

Suddenly, I feel my heart speeding up and my limbs beginning to twitch rapidly.

"Oh no..." I mumble.

I run to my add-on room, made of wool for my own safety, and lock myself inside. As soon as the door locks, I fall on the floor, writhing and twitching.  I can't control it and I'm aware for the entire ordeal, which is by far the worst part. 

After what feels like an hour long seizure, I pass out from exhaustion on the floor.

~~~~~~~

I wake to the sound of marching and fire.  I stand up shakily and leave the panic room to look out the window.  To my horror, I see an entire army of blazes and wither skeletons storming through the forest.  I watch in silence, praying that they don't see my house. 

A few tense minutes later, they've passed me.  I don't know whether they didn't notice it or whether they didn't think it was important to burn my home down, but either way I'm happy I'm safe.

Relieved, I crawl into my bed for a calm night's sleep.